


Like a Maelstrom

by Oneroika_Lunae



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: ATLANNA HAS ORM BABY PICTURES WHICH WILL BE USED AS BLACK MAIL BY VULKO AS NEEDED, Adorable baby, Arthur Curry being the best bro, Asshole parents, Best friend Mera, Bioluminescence, But only a little, DO NOT LITTER IN THE OCEAN GOD DAMN IT ALL, Don't worry honey I got your shells, Drama, F/M, Hold my shells I'm gonna kick ass, Marine Biologists, Misunderstandings, Orm being a Drama King, Romance, Tom Curry is the best dad, Very passionate marine biology talks, atlantean biology, pub fights, talk of forced marriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oneroika_Lunae/pseuds/Oneroika_Lunae
Summary: Nothing is what it seems in this story about family, misunderstandings and love.Orm Marius had a dark secret. He once had a relationship with a surface dweller. The same surface dweller who has been personally invited by the new King as his guest of honour to the coronation ceremony, along with her son.Grace Curry never thought she would meet Orm Marius again, but this time she hopes she can punch him hard in his stupid handsome face. Mera promised her, after all.Plot is full of secrets that will be revealed along the first chapters.





	1. Before the wave

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Aquaman and GODS ABOVE AND BELOW DO I HAVE ISSUES WITH ALL THE CHARACTERS IN THAT MOVIE.
> 
> So this is for my fav drama king Orm Marius. And for the friend who keeps mentioning all the dirty stuff she wants to do to the Atlantean royal brothers.

Orm emerged quietly by the small rocky beach, and carefully took off his armour, bundled it in his cloak and hid in the rocks, with his trident on top. It had been nearly five years since he last visited the little white house on the cliff, but he still remembered the hidden steps cut in the rock that led him up.

Almost five years.

The recent plans to attack the surface had brought memories back that he though long gone. Like the sound of her laughter or the smell of her hair. The feeling of her warm body pressed against his at night. And just like that, the Atlantean that swore to hate the surface world and the land dwellers couldn’t resist the urge to see her one more time. Maybe even warn her about the incoming war. 

Orm discovered with surprise that the entrance was now guarded by a white fence, tall enough to reach his waist. She had always loved watching the sunset. He worried. What might have led her to sacrifice the unobstructed view of the sea from the cliff? And then he heard it. The laughter. The child. 

The in their garden, her garden, a tiny tanned child giggled and ran wild, waving a stick around. A tall dark man followed him calmly, his big steps slow as to give the child enough time to escape. He held a familiar weapon in his hand. It was the silver trident that once belonged to Orm’s mother. Only one man could possess that weapon. Arthur Curry. His half-breed brother. 

Blood froze in his veins as a scream of rage got caught in his throat. A king then crouched and hid among the greenery and the fence, spying through the hole the door to the cliff path had. The half-breed and the child kept mock-fighting, until the child hit the man in the chest with his makeshift weapon, and he saw how the abomination collapsed, quite dramatically, in the grass, holding his big hands to his chest, and crying as he faked his death. The child climbed on top of his defeated enemy, only to be engulfed in a giant bear hug and tickled mercilessly. 

“You thought I would be so easy to defeat? Foolish human! You will suffer the consequences!” the half-breed roared, and the child laughed happily as he pulled on the man’s long hair and beard, crying for him to stop.

He was already thinking on going back, going away, not interested in the long-lost half-brother who seemed to be living in what had been her house. His heart ached when he thought of her. If she had fled her beloved shore fleeing from him, to the point of giving up her home. A part of him was glad. If she had moved inland, she would be safe when the first waves arrived. But then, nothing had been easy in Orm’s life, not since he draw his first breath with the weight of a crown on his shoulders, and the threat of a bastard brother hanging over his head like a death sentence.

“May you call a truce, Oh mighty ones? I brought snacks”

Orm’s head snapped up. It was her voice. He would not forget her as long as his heart was beating inside his chest. He peered though the gaps in the fence, holding his breath, waiting. She appeared in the garden, dressed in a white summer dress he remembered, with her long hair up on a messy bun and a sweet smile on her lips. She carried a tray on her hands with a tall jar full of juice and plates full of food. Orm’s heart missed a beat. 

No.

“Mama, mama, mama” the toddler babbled, making grabby hands towards her, squirming in the abomination’s arms. The adults laughed at his antics.

Arthur. His name was Arthur, the son his mother gave her life to protect. Arthur, who was holding the child, dark skinned, like him, with the same bright smile, and curly blonde hair and lively blue eyes, just like their mother. Arthur, who used his other hand to take the tray out of her hands and put it carefully down on the garden table, before he hugged her closely to his chest and kissed her hair. 

Not this.

Let the half breed steal his mother from him.

Let him steal any sense of safety Orm ever experience as he grew up a crown prince with an older brother.

But not this.

“Papa lemme go!” cried the toddler, and yanked at the man’s beard. But Arthur only arched an eyebrow at this, like it was something normal. She chuckled and tickled her son’s bare feet.

Not her smile.

Or the warmth in her eyes.

Not the familiar way they treated each other.

Orm felt like choking, he, who couldn’t drown in the sea or the dry land.

What a lovely little picture they painted, all together, happy, smiling. 

How painfully Orm’s heart was breaking. 

He turned around abruptly, as if struck by a harpoon through his heart. They looked happy. She looked happy, smiling at her son and her new mate. Having refreshments in the garden under the warmth of the sun.

He sneered. Maybe she had a type. Maybe she had some kind of weird kink. Maybe it was the royal blood, as tainted as it could be in some cases, that she was attracted to, or was it only an attraction for Atlanteans? He silently made his way back to the beach, tumbling along the way, slipping in some places where his legs, more used to swimming than walking, were unable to held him up. He felt a pain like he hadn’t felt before. It was similar to that awful, terrible day when he had watched his mother being sacrificed to The Trench, but worse. Orm felt tears slipping from his eyes, and he let himself half fall half sit on a rock, touching the delicate salty drops coming from his eyes with an incredulous hand. He hadn’t cried in years. He hadn’t cried when his father had died, all those years ago. He hadn’t cried after the war, when he had to bury so many of his friends. Or at least, what a king could call friends. He hadn’t cried, even if those were tears born of rage, when King Nereus had pressured him into marrying Mera. He had laughed until the tears had run through his cheeks, in the tiny sofa that was in the living room of the little white house. They had been joking, watching a movie. She has asked if he was ticklish. He didn’t know. She found out he was. He had cried watching musicals with her, tears hidden by the darkness of the theatre. It had been emotional moments. Happy moments. Of self-discovery, of fun, of love. Orm had cried freely and wore his heart in his sleeve. King Orm hadn’t shed a single tear, with an ironclad heart and a frozen facade. 

How strange, that the last time he remembered himself crying, was in this very place, and the tears were cause by the very same woman. He furiously dug out his armour and started strapping it back, still sobbing, tears running freely down his face. The child looked young, but not much. He was already babbling and running. Three, he would say. Maybe even more. 

How quickly he had been forgotten. 

Orvax warning about the heartlessness and selfishness of the land dwellers came back to Orm, and he chastised himself for being so weak. He had put her in a pedestal when she had left him to rot and went on her way, getting a new Atlantean mate. Getting pregnant. Having his half-brother’s son. As he adjusted his cloak, he wondered if it would hurt less if it had been another human male instead of his half-brother. If it would have felt less like a betrayal. No matter what, he couldn’t bear to hate her. What he would hate her for? Being happy? Having a life? Having her perfect little family? What right he had to feel betrayed, when he had been the first one to draw blood, five years ago?

It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

The attack would come for the surface dwellers. The time for their punishment had arrived, at long last. But Orm could not forget the picture of the happy family in their garden, bathed by the golden light of the sun, so different from the silvery blue light of his Atlantean home.


	2. A flash of light

Orm cursed as he dodged the beast’s attack, swinging his trident and cutting the thing in half. How and why did the Trenchers were so close to their route was suspicious at best, but not improbable. The young king cursed again. He had fended off one, but other two were already biting down on his armour, and he could feel the plates giving in under the pressure. He should have listened to Vulko when he suggested adding more guards. Ever since his father died, and even before, when he lost his mother to the Trench, the old vizier had been fiercely overprotective of him, and so, Orm had dismissed it as the unnecessary worries of an old man, and now he was paying the price. 

One of his guards swam past the young king, taking of the creatures with him. Orm swung his trident again, and the other monster was dead. He turned around, disoriented. The water was stained crimson by his blood, and the blood of his guards. There were at least a dozen trenchers left, and all the guards were dead. With a scream full of rage, Orm recognized defeat and turned tail to swim as fast as he could, leaving behind a bloody trail. They were everywhere. Orm started to panic, feeling accosted on all sides, feeling the trenchers hot on his trail. He though of his mother, and a cold claw dug in his heart. He had to get away. He had to get away. Away, away, away, away. The picture of Atlanna as he last saw her, proud and unrepentant as she faced her husband and king. The way she had gently smiled for him even when they were taking her away. The screams of the creatures melted with the screams his mind conjured. Screams that sounded awfully like his mother.  
Orm had to think. He had to be brave. He was a king, he had fought in wars. He had to keep calm and find a way out. Accosted on all sides, he could feel the way the monsters kept cutting his path, making him swim in circles, herding him towards the deep. They wanted to tire him out before devouring him. 

Towards the deep…

Trenchers were deep dwelling creatures. Deep dwellers… 

Orm twisted at break necking speed and turned towards the shallow waters of the shore, but in that risky manoeuvre, one of the creatures managed to latch once again to his armour, removing the plates that protected his chest and claws digging painfully in his side. Orm let him dispatch the armour, noticing how he felt lighter as the plating disappeared, before shaking it off with a violent turn. He broke the surface of the waters, throwing the creature high in the air and spearing it to the near-by cliff with his trident, and then fell back in with a splash.

He had left most of the group behind, and only three of the monsters, the bravest or dumbest among them kept following him. But now Orm had no weapon, since he had left it deep in the cliff face. He cursed his stupidity. He was struggling to push forward, tired of keeping up the fast swimming and dizzy from blood loss, when he finally got close enough to the shore that the big tidal pools that now were covered by the sea were visible. There was a beach there. And the creatures couldn’t breathe air.

He didn’t make it that far. Something closed around his ankle and dragged him back. Claws and jaws found their marks and dug deep in his flesh. He grunted, and then, screamed. He shook and tried to break free but he was trapped.

Did Atlanna suffer like this? 

Did she scream?

Orm head a cry of surprise, or maybe it was pain. It sounded too high pitched to be his. He thought that his brain might be conjuring his mother, but it wasn’t her voice. He managed to punch a creature hard enough to dislodge it from his body, but the other two were holding fast, not tearing flesh away, but enlarging the wound he already had. They were going to let him bleed out before eating him. Orm smiled. Maybe because of the blood loss. Maybe because he hopped his mother had gone like this. Not eaten alive but claimed but the sweet unconsciousness of blood loss.

He was close to passing out when a blinding light appeared at the bottom of the sea and came closer and closer, disorienting Orm and making the trenchers scream in pain as the light seared their delicate eyes. He heard a woman’s voice and felt soft arms around him, so different from the slimy scaly arms the trenchers had. Orm gave himself away to the dark.

 

\---------------------------------

Grace was panicking. Why all the weird shit always happened to her? She could swear to god above that it was some kind of weird twisted genetic marker for attracting disaster. She only wanted to be a nerd in peace. And quiet. You have to be some special type of person, either extremely lucky or extremely cursed, to go on a nightly excursion to the bottom of your local shore hoping for some nocturnal sea life pictures, and come back home with a mysterious hot blonde, half naked and bleeding on the back of your truck. 

Grace had sacrificed all her spare clothes for the sake of binding his wounds, and she had tossed carelessly his diving gear in the passenger’s seat, not caring about storing it properly before getting in the road. 

This sound decision of driving aimlessly lasted about five minutes. Basically, until she realised that she could not get him to the hospital, dump him at the entrance and proudly announce that she had recorded how the guy swam, at an impossible speed, from a bunch of creatures that looked straight out of a nightmare. Oh, and the guy seemed to breath underwater. If that didn’t end with fish guy being taken in by the government and dissected, Grace would be surprised. There was only one guy that could breathe underwater like that. 

Good thing she had him on speed-dial.

“What the fuck, it’s ass o’clock in the morning Gracie, some of us want to sleep” The raspy voice of their resident superhuman broke the silence of her car, parked very illegally at one side of the road. 

“Arthur, I need help” Maybe it was the way her voice was trembling. Or maybe it was the fact that she never asked for help unless it was important. Like that time with the baby dolphins. 

“What’s wrong?” he sounded worried, and he was right to be so, since Grace had an innate ability to get into trouble. Always. No matter how hard she tried to be good. After 20 years, most of her friends and family were used to it, but the magnitude of this particular problem might baffle even Arthur. And he could talk to the fish.

“What if I told you I found a guy with a really weird scally suit on, unconscious, floating at the bottom of White point? And that he seemed to breath underwater?”

“I would tell you to stay the fuck away from the guy and let him either drown or float the hangover away” he sounded interested, but cautious. Grace bit her lip. Oh boy. Arthur was going to have kittens. Aqua-kittens. 

“And if I told you he was being attacked by monsters? Or at least creatures with many teeth. Really, lots and lots of teeth. He was bleeding all over the place” Grace heard Arthur groan. The creaking of the bed and the rustling sounds coming from the speaker heralded that Grace had managed not only to drag him out of bed, but she had made him get dressed. Goddammit all this might be important. 

“Don’t. Do. Anything. Stupid” he said, deadly serious. “I’ll be at the beach soon enough. Just hang in there for a minute.” Grace winced. She could feel the tongue lashing coming. He was going to be soooo pissed.

“Arthur, Arthur, you love me, right?” He groaned at her pleasing tone. Grace grimaced. She hated it when she disappointed Arthur. It was like kicking the biggest puppy in the world. 

“What did you do?” There it was. It was like he was expecting her to keep out of trouble and she let him down badly. Again. It was like having a bad repeat of the sea lion incident. But so much worse, because there was no way Arthur was going to find her new charity case as cute as the baby sea lion. 

“Put him on the back on my truck? Also, I’m kind of driving? To the hospital? He is in a pretty bad shape mate, I know you are pretty durable, but this guy is part mince pie at this point”

“What? Turn around. Go to your house” a crunch, a crash, and a curse. “Fucking hell, what the actual shit…? Listen Gracie, take him to your house, I’ll be right there in a minute, promise”

“So, no hospital?” asked Grace, not very convinced about leaving the guy without proper medical attention. She already felt bad about leaving him bleeding in the truck while she phoned Arthur.

“No, no, great idea, and when the needles bend against his skin, we can wait together for the men in black, to take us all into custody. It’ll be fun!” Grace snorted at his sarcasm. She left the mobile precariously balanced on her lap as she restarted the truck and drove home. “ Just… get him into the tub and pour salt on the water”

“Don’t be silly, you are friends with Batman. He would break us out” Arthur chuckled. Grace passed the little town of Amnesty bay and continued forward towards the small road that bordered the coast. It only led to three places. The Curry’s lighthouse, the Bellamy’s place, and, right on top of the cliffs of White point, her home. 

“What, not Superman?” Grace laughed.

“Listen pal, if I had to choose, I would rather be saved by Wonder woman, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I think the guy dressed in black would be better to infiltrate a secret base destined to contain aliens that an alien guy dressed in bright red and blue”. She could already see the little white house, two stories high were she had been living most of her life. There wasn’t much to gawk upon from the road. Just the automatic door and the stone wall that surrounded the property on the side of the land and fended off unwanted visitors. 

“Uuuuuuuh, I’m def telling them at our next meeting” He joked. There was the sound of a door opening and closing, and then the engine starting. Grace breathed a little bit easier knowing the help was on its way. 

She parked her car and climbed on the back of the truck to inspect the state of her guest. She hadn’t even looked at him, panicking as she was. She had only cared about keeping them both out of the water. She spared a sad glance at her very expensive photography set. The lights were designed to be attached to a harness that fastened around the chest of the diver, creating a halo of well illuminated space around the photographer. Now it was missing several lights, there where one of the creatures, clearly blinded but bold had tried to attack her and failed, chewing instead on the lights. It was a good thing that she had expend all that extra money on the new equipment, with the full mask so she could talk and record underwater instead of having to sign everything or rely on her piss poor memory after a good long dive. She had screamed so loudly and for so long she would have drowned if the mask hadn’t been covering all her face.

Grace nearly swallowed her tongue when she managed to fully properly look at him. He was Hot. With capital H. Like. Wow. Even with the crappy lights at the back of her house she could see he was quite a beauty. His wet suit was shredded to pieces, and she could spy creamy white skin and defined muscles under the crude bandages. His face was proportioned and pretty in a classical beauty way. And he had short blonde hair that was already curling as it dried. Grace swallowed. Gosh she had issues with hot blondies. She checked his pulse and his breathing. He had started coughing up a ton of water as soon as she got him out of the sea, but after that he seemed to be breathing easily. If it wasn’t for all the blood, she would have thought he was just sleeping. 

Now Arthur had said to get him into her bathtub. The only problem was that, even with her strength, she wasn’t sure she would be able to get a good enough grip of him as to move him without hurting him more. She sighed. Well, better listen to the resident fish boy. She opened the latch and dragged him by his ankles until half his body was dangling out of the truck. Would he be able to walk? She tried slapping him gently on the cheek, but he didn’t respond at all. Totally unconscious. Great. 

With another sigh, Grace took a couple of steps back, did some stretching moves, and proceeded to try and carry him princess style. He was heavy, but not the heaviest thing she had ever carried. With no time to lose, she took careful steps towards her door. Good thing she never bothered locking the door properly. His hair smelled, against all odds, pretty nice, and his breath tickled her neck where his head was awkwardly propped against her shoulder. She tried to move as fast as she could, but it wasn’t long before she was huffing and puffing, her arms trembling with the effort of keeping him up. She managed to open the door with her elbow and went straight to the stairs. Thirteen steps never seem to be so big. By the time she carefully laid him down in the tub, she ached all over, her knees and her back were on fire, and she was covered in blood. Good thing that Atlanteans were pretty thick skinned, because she was sure she had bumped him into each and every corner of every furniture in their path. And the bathtub. 

Grace opened the hot water and tried to recover a little while the tub filled up. Then she remembered. The salt. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the pain, and ran to the kitchen. She didn’t have much salt left, at least not much if she needed to get her tub to seawater level. She shrugged. He would have to cope until the morning. Or maybe Arthur would bring more salt with him. She fetched a few towels and started to carefully clean him up, the still fresh blood making a mess of the water. She decided to drain the tub when she was done. The wound had stopped bleeding for the most part, only those where the makeshift bandages had stuck to the flesh were bleeding lightly now, and only because Grace had to pull the tattered remains of her shirt away. His suit was a mess. She had found a zipper at the back and managed to pull it all half way through, after making the wonderful and completely unnecessary discovery that apparently, atlanteans didn’t do underwear. She dumped the salt she had on the clean water and waited for Arthur to arrive. From time to time she took a towel, dipped it on the tub, and carefully used it on his face and hair. Dolphins could dehydrate pretty fast, and she didn’t know if atlanteans had the same problem. Arthur didn’t, but he was half human.

She was pretty distracted doing this and trying hard not to look at either the wounds of the abs, that she missed the heavy footsteps on the stairs until he was practically on top of her. 

“Should I give you a minute?” Arthur’s deep voice asked, clearly amused. “Though maybe I should stay, I’m a hero, after all, and he is not capable of consent right now” Grace threw the towel at him. Blushing and furious.

“Asshole” He shrugged and crouched by her side. Good thing that her mom had built the bathroom to be one massive ode to her bubble baths, or there wouldn’t have been a way for the huge man to fit there. 

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked, nervously, as she played with a loose strand of hair that escaped from her bun. Arthur looked at his wounds and checked his pulse. “Listen, I put all the salt I had on the water, but really, I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough, if I need more, or less or something, tell me now, cause morning it’s still like, four hours away, and I will have to go do some grocery shopping, and I don’t want to come back to a corpse, and…”

Arthur covered her mouth with one of his big big hands. He frowned.

“Stop. Talking. Is like listening to Barry on caffeine” Grace just stared, eyes open wide, confused. Who the hell was Barry? Then she frowned, because, though he had gone back to his, patient, for lack of a better name, he hadn’t moved his hand. Grace smirked, and then she licked his palm.

“Aaaarrrrghhh, gross! Fuck, Grace, that was hella gross, What the fuck?” Arthur was making such a funny face she couldn’t help but laugh at him. He cleaned his hand in his shirt, and went right back at the task at hand, muttering to himself. 

“Keep your paws to yourself then” Arthur sighed and got to his feet. He dried his hands on his clothes and scratched him head. “What? What’s wrong?”

Arthur made a gesture with his head and went down stairs. Grace looked at the man in her tub one more time before following him. He was already going through her fridge.

“I ran out of beer yesterday” she said, and he gave her an incredulous look. He looked perfectly shocked. He then settled on raiding the cupboards for a cup and made himself some coffee. He was munching on a bunch of pastries when she coughed twice, trying to get his attention. 

“What?” He said, spiting crumbs everywhere. Grace sighed and sat on the counter. Arthur swallowed and knelt to clean his mess. While he was on the floor, with his hair casting shadows on his face, making it unreadable, he spoke. “Listen kiddo. He will probably be alright in a couple of weeks. I admit I’m not heartless enough to tell you to dump him back into the water. Whatever got him was, well, pretty fucking strong. I’m a tough guy, even with Pops being human. But that… well.” 

When he got up, he didn’t face her, but turned towards the sink and started washing the couple of plates Grace had forgotten there before she left for the beach. The silence started growing uncomfortable for Grace after five seconds. Her brain was going at the speed of light. She was scared after what she had seen in the ocean that night. Elated that Arthur had an Atlantean close at hand. Maybe they could become friends! She could ask so many questions about their culture that Arthur was never able to fully answer… and then, she worried, because heaven knew what could happen if those things caught some poor diver all alone in the water. Or some fishermen. Or another Atlantean. Maybe Arthur himself. 

“Please tell me you are not going to be in the water any time soon. I need you here. Please” she begged. Not only because she was pretty sure Arthur would end up being a giant hamburger for underwater monsters, but because she was scared of the… man upstairs. She had counted on him being weak and friendly, but Arthur was very strong. Maybe the guy would wake up pissed as hell, and she was only a poor squishy human. He looked at her and she saw it saddened him to make her worry like that. 

“Of course, I’m going back. Need to see what the fuck is messing with my waters. They got him too close to the shore, and they nearly eat you. I will take my trident. You know I know how to use it. And… well. Listen Gracie. He must never know who I am. Okay? Never ever tell him about me. I don’t exist. If he knows, and tells someone… I can take care of myself, but they might hurt Pa. Gracie, promise me” There were tears in both of their eyes when they gently hugged. Against his chest, she muttered.

“I promise” She felt the kiss he laid on her unruly hair and her arms tightened around him “But for God’s sake, help me change his clothes before you go”. He laughed and messed her hair up before going upstairs.

“That, I can do. God knows what the sight of Atlantean dick might do to your poor, innocent, virginal eyes” He laughed as she threw one of her shoes at his head and missed. She waited in the kitchen, heating up some leftovers for them and preparing a fresh pot of coffee. She could hear him rummaging around the house, back and forth from one room to the other. 

“All good?!” she shouted, “Do you need help after all?!” Arthur reappeared some minutes later, kind of pale. Grace handed him the steaming mug and gently placed a plate full of biscuits by it. “I’m reheating some Chinese, if you want… Okay you better tell me what’s wrong, you are kind of scaring me” Arthur just negated with his head and drained the mug in one go.

“Apparently my experienced eyes can be as traumatized by Atlantean cock as your poor virginal ones” He was staring at the wall, still pale and grimacing. Grace handed him a pair of chopsticks and put the food right in front of him.

“My poor, poor knight in shinning armour” She paused “Shouldn’t you know about, you know, Atlantean anatomy?” Arthur chocked on his food. His eyes were big as saucers and full of tears as he stared at her, betrayed. But Grace was so very curious about that. After all, watching the Shape of Water had led to a very interesting summer that was half jokes at Arthur’s expense and half very uncomfortable, awkward questions that went unanswered. 

“I don’t want to have this conversation” he whispered, still coughing, as he rose and went to the cabinet for a glass. He drained it three times before he felt composed enough to return to the table. 

“I mean, I think we all watched The Shape of Water last summer in the park, Right? How bad can it be?” Arthur looked at her like a deer in the headlights and went literally green.

“Just. Don’t. Mention. It. I’m very human when it comes to that… part. I never needed to know about their junk, never asked. Fuck this is weird. Just shut up. Please” Grace chuckled and took mercy on him. She changed the subject and kept him entertained with the tidying of her diving equipment and hiding any pictures of Arthur or of Tom Curry that the Atlantean could accidentally see when he wake up, they worked until the first rays of sunlight began to fill the room. It was then when Arthur rose, ready to go back to the Lighthouse. Grace walked him to the door, and, after reassuring him that yes, she would call him immediately if she had any problem so he could come and kick Atlantean ass, and no, she would not breathe a word about him to the guy currently sleeping in her guest room. 

As soon as he left, waving his hand through the car’s window, she went again through the house, combing it for any traces of Arthur’s existence she could not justify one way or another. He still had some stuff in the guest bathroom, and his clothes were on the closet, but well, she didn’t have to explain anything to whoever the hell fish boy number two was. All the pictures were safely tucked away in a corner of the attic. She wouldn’t call Arthur by his name, and she will totally evade all questions about any Atlantean related knowledge she had. Which was, mostly, shit, anyway.

Grace made sure the man was comfortable in a giant pillow nest she had made around him, and tucked him in, adding an extra blanket, just in case. Following Arthur’s advice, she left him a glass and a pitcher full of water in the nightstand. Bone tired, she dragged herself back to her room and face planted in her bed, hair dirty and skin sticky from the salt and the sweat, and her clothes a mess. It took her less than a minute to fall deeply sleep.


	3. waking up I

Orm woke up feeling like he was boiling, tangled in the sheets of the bed he was laying in and surrounded by pillows. When he tried to move, bolts of pain travelled trough his body, making him groan and stay as still as possible as they passed. It hurt. Badly.

Panting, the tried to move slowly, first to pull the blanket that was covering his head away, then, panicking, not caring how much it hurt, he quickly sat up and stare, part in wonder and part in horror, at the strange room he was in. The strange dry room. He had been captured by land dwellers. Long time ago, his mother had told him wonderful stories about the surface world. Of kind men and wonderful sights like snow or dogs, or delicacies like chocolate and smores. 

But they had all been delusions of a woman trapped in a loveless marriage that had wanted to flee at all costs. He learnt the harsh reality of it all after her loss, when his father King Orvax uncovered her lies. The surface was a savage, war ridden world, where humans consumed everything, and their greed destroyed everything in they wake. Including the oceans. 

He was boiling. 

Orm acted fast, throwing the covers away and rising to his feet, trying to ignore the ache that came from his wounds. As soon as he tried to step forward, he tripped. He had wanted to impulse himself through the room, but air offered less resistance than water, and he couldn’t float. The result of this was that he fell, as long as he was, face first to the floor, which raked him from head to toe and left him moaning in pain as the bites in his side and his shoulder took the brunt of the hit and threatened to reopen. 

He was on all fours, pathetically trying to drag himself to his feet, when the door opened with a bang, and Orm panicked. Years of training and half arsed attempts on his life paid off, instinct kicking in, he dropped back to the floor and rolled under the bed. He mentally cursed when he remembered he had lost his trident during the attack. His hand ached to feel the familiar weight and the security the weapon brought him. Orm frowned. The feet he was able to see frantically searching the room were dainty. They had to belong to a female. Or a very short man. Orm tried to stay silent while the human searched the room, appearing and disappearing through a nearby door. Then the feet stopped right in front of Orm’s eyes. The nails were painted a light blue with silver swirls on them. How very curious. He was so distracted looking at that strange sight, pondering if they were some kind of birthmarks or merely a fashion statement, that the sudden sound as she talked to him made him raise his head in surprise. And hit the bed. Hard. It didn’t break, but Orm’s brain felt the banging. 

“I… My name is Grace, and I promise you, I am a friend. I will walk to the door, if you want, but please, do come out from there. Please” the voice was definitely female. His father’s records stated that their military was composed mostly by males, but they had female soldiers too. It might be a trap. She sounded kind, her voice soft and calm. He sneered. Definitely a trap. He was definitely stronger and more durable than the humans. Maybe they didn’t know that. An Atlantean blade could make quick work of him, but How they were supposed to know? He studied his options. Hurt like he was, weaponless, and wearing clothes that did not belong to him and were far too big, there weren’t many. He couldn’t take out the creatures if he encountered them back in the water if he escaped. 

Orm cursed internally, and, checking that the human female had backed off as she had promised, he painfully rolled out from under the bed. Now that the adrenaline had ran its course, he ached once more. It took him way longer than he would have wanted to get on his feet, and he had to relay on the furniture for balance. He straightened up, defiant, and turned to look at his captor.

He had trouble to contain his laughter.

The human female was at the door, dressed in strange land dweller attire. She wore her long brown hair loose, and the waves fell messily around her face. It looked like some kind of nest was on her head. Her skin was tanned by the merciless rays of the sun. She was short, shorter than any Atlantean woman he had ever met, reaching only to his collarbone. They stared at each other for a solid minute, tension filling the air. She had a strange look on her face. Orm had seen something similar on Vulko’s face from time to time. She seemed worried. She had all the rights to be. He was bigger and stronger. Capturing while he was vulnerable might have been easy, but now he was awake and alert. He took a step forward, menacing, and growled. He needed to scare her off before she did something stupid and he had to kill her. He couldn’t hear anyone else in the house, but she could call for reinforcements if he was not careful. Orm could hear the waves crashing close by. He was closer to freedom than expected. Good.

He would rather take his chances with the trenchers than stay with a bunch of humans.

As soon as he moved, she raised both hands, palms up. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I don’t know if you remember anything about yesterday?” So, it had only been one day. Orm felt relieved and worried. Vulko would not notice that something was wrong in a few days, maybe even a week. That meant Orm would be spared the this-is-why-you-have-guards-don’t-go-off-on-your-own speech but also meant he would not come here guns blazing to rescue him. He was on his own. The girl took a step forward, and Orm immediately jumped back. He miscalculated, the stupid gravity making him trip and he fell back into the bed with a surprised cry. 

Orm just wanted to die. To have such a pathetic moment, right in front of a filthy puny human. He should just jump head first into the lava that flowed through Atlantis. Spare his people the embarrassment. His side hurt badly, and he just let himself lay there, groaning, too embarrassed to try walking again. He felt the mattress dip and then, careful, soft human hands were hovering over him, not touching yet. Her face was awfully close, and had she been Atlantean, had they been in his palace, they would have caused quite the scandal. Not even betrothed couples were so close, supervised or not. Gentle hands checked his bandages. Orm froze in place. Her touch was giving him goosebumps. 

“Listen, uh, you. Are you okay? I mean, if you are okay as in you need something, you are clearly not okay I mean those things chewed you up…” Her brow was furrowed, and her big warm eyes were full of worry. They were very expressive. She seemed sincere in her preoccupation for him, and that made Orm feel incredibly uncomfortable. She was clearly uncomfortable too, judging how fast she was talking, though it was more like babbling at this point. 

“Silence human. You talk far too much” Her eyes widened comically. Her mouth was wide open. Orm wanted to laugh at her, but right now he just wanted to go home and forget he ever got into such terrible mess on the first place. A rebellious part of him protested. He never got into any trouble at all. He had always been diligent in his studies, never missed trident practice, and excelled in all the tasks laid before him. He had worked hard to be the perfect heir, and, since his father’s death two years ago, the perfect king. He never had given any excuses for salacious rumours in his court. He had never got into any mess. Always perfect, always composed, always meeting everyone’s expectations. He could just have this tiny mishap, and no one had to know about it.

“I was going to offer you breakfast, but I guess I will let you stew a little bit more while I shower. My Ma might insist on me being a good host, but I don’t really have to have manners when the guests are being this rude” She disappeared from his sight, and when he turned he saw her walking fast towards the door right in front of his room and closing the entrance with a loud bang. What an incomprehensible creature.

He heard the sound of running water afterwards, and guessed she was ‘showering’. He entertained himself examining the room he was in. It was clearly inhabited, but the belongings seemed quite scarce. A few books on the shelves. A couple of thinner books, flimsy looking, laying on one of the nightstands. The open closet with clothing that clearly was too big for the human female. He looked around and tried to figure out what kind of person had given him their room. He sniffed the sheets he had laid on, but they only smelled pleasantly, but nothing he could recognize. 

His next attempt at walking was much better. Now that he knew what to expect, it was easier to keep his balance and walk around. The room had a door that gave way to the terrace. He could see what appeared to be a garden, and then, the sea, far below. How strange. For some reason, it irked Orm. The sun shone brightly in the sky. It was bluer than any ocean, and clean, cloudless as far as Orm’s eyes could see. The contrast between the green of the garden, splotched here and there by strange structures and colourful plants, the blue sky and the ocean below, illuminated by the sun, was quite beautiful. The warm rays bathed him in sunlight and gently caressed his skin. It was very pleasant. 

“You will burn to a crisp if you stand there without any sunscreen. A... I have been told you guys don’t get much sun down there.” Orm turned and was quite shocked. This Showering ritual must be what they called they morning ablutions. The woman had changed her clothes, and she gave off a pleasant smell. The biggest change was her hair. It didn’t resemble a nest anymore. The brown locks were combed back into a high ponytail. It looked… fluffy. Orm wanted to touch it, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to lay a single digit on a surface dweller. She had a bottle on her hand.

“This is sunscreen” she said, handing it to Orm “we apply it in our skins to protect us from the sun rays. Otherwise, we burn, and it’s really… unpleasant”. Only then did Orm realize she had spoken about him like she knew what he was. His eyes narrowed. She visibly flinched.

“What do you know, exactly, about me?” he inquired, suspicious. She seemed to be had some kind of inner conflict, but in the end, she squared her shoulders and smiled at him. She herded him toward the lower floor of her abode, advising him on how to walk down the stairs, or talking about what was this and that object around her house. Orm didn’t know why she felt the urgent need to explain everything to him. He never realised it was far too obvious when he was looking, puzzled, at some human artefact, thus prompting his host to explain for him what it was. 

She offered him a seat at her table, and Orm tried to maintain his regal appearance while trying to look at everything at once. The furniture was strange looking, the decoration was alien to him, and he couldn’t figure out, for the life of him, what most of the apparatus that littered the surfaces were. She was clearly preparing a meal for him, and he frowned, looking intently at her back, trying to figure if something she added seemed poisonous. Orm realised, with surprise, that it was the first time he had been in a kitchen. It was… odd. 

She was using ingredients he had never seen before, mixing them at great speed. Her bright smile dimmed when she turned around with the plates of food only to find his disapproving stare. Orm hadn’t moved an inch, reclining in the chair he had been given like it was his own throne back in Atlantis and not some dingy frail human chair. 

“I hope you like it” she said, clearly nervous. Orm looked at the food in front of him like it was going to bite him at any moment. “It just scrambled eggs with veggies, sausage and bacon. I mean, if you don’t like it, I can cook something else”. She sat in front of him and began to eat. She chewed carefully, swallowed, and smiled. “It is good though” She added. Then she frowned again. “Wait, maybe I should have prepared some sushi or something, do you like raw fish? Does it have to be a specific kind of fish?” Orm frowned. There she was, babbling once more. It was irritating. He felt guilty for making her so nervous, since she had obviously taken care of his wounds and was feeding him. Or at least trying to feed him. Arching his eyebrow, he grabbed the fork and took a bite our of the strangely looking… mass on his plate. 

Orm chewed. 

He expected some kind of poison, but nothing happened. The food had a pleasant smell, and though the texture was difficult to… ah, appreciate, the taste was… well, exquisite. His eyes widened comically, and the girl smiled brightly at him. He continued eating. Actually, he cleaned his plate in minutes. 

“Do you want seconds?” she asked. Orm looked at her completely puzzled.

“Second what?”

“A second serving of food, silly” she said, still smiling. She took his plate away while Orm thought about it. He was used to have several courses on a single meal, but this land dweller might be a poor one. He wasn’t sure how the commoners arranged their meals. He shouldn’t take more than what was offered. But she had offered. Orm needed the food if he was going to make a full recovery. And he was hungry. And it was delicious. 

“Yes, if you would be so kind” Orm said, nodding. “And, if you were to be so kind, I would ask of you a drink” He was so very thirsty. The girl smiled and soon he was enjoying more of the food. She sat in front of him once again, leaving a pitcher full of water, and several of those awful plastic bottles full of colourful liquids. He stared. Orm frowned when she chuckled, and then laughed, barely trying to conceal her giggles behind her hand. As stoic as he wanted to appear, to see him eating with such delight while frowning at the juice bottles as if they had personally offended him was hilarious, and they had, the plastic that covered the bottom of the Ocean and sometimes made living in the water and moving around a living nightmare always would offend him, and He could not, for the life of him, could imagine why the human was parading the bloody things in front of him. 

“So, before I start rambling about silly things again. Let’s start from the top. My name is Grace Lionel, and I would like to be your friend, if you would let me. I know about Atlantis, so you have nothing to worry about. I will take care of you until you can go back, don’t worry. What’s your name?” She extended her hand towards him, and Orm could do anything but stare, completely baffled. 

This… this… woman, this… human. She wanted to be his friend. Orm was, well, speechless. He didn’t even realise he was frozen in place, fork halfway to his mouth, which was hanging open in surprise. The first though he had was disgust. He? Orm of the house of Atlan, King of Atlantis, becoming friends with a filthy land dweller? He, who was friends with the most noble, ancient bloodlines of their very superior race since birth…

With a pang of desperation, he realised in that moment that, that was, well, that possibly was the most innocent and uninterested offer of friendship he ever had. She didn’t know he was king, or even a noble, at least, she didn’t act like she knew, even if she, Grace, he corrected himself, her name was Grace, claimed to know about Atlantis. When was the last time anyone wanted to be close to him for Orm, the man, and not the Crown prince, the king, the power of the crown? Maybe when he was a child playing with Mera in the summer palace. Maybe when Vulko had kindly given him advice of played with him when his parents were busy fighting each other. Gods, it had been so long…

He swallowed, suddenly sweaty, shy and nervous. He looked at her extended hand. He nodded, and, in true kingly fashion, held her forearm in his hand, saluting her and sealing their bond of friendship. She might know about their costumes, after all. 

“My name is…” He doubted about giving her his real name, but, in the end, his sudden desire of having one true friend won. Over his sense of caution, over his hate of the surface, over the fact that this was a dangerous situation and she was nothing but a human, the very same race that was destroying Orm’s world. “My name is Orm Marius, and I would be honoured to be your friend, Grace Lionel of the dry land”.

Her smiled was brighter and warmer than any of the others she had gifted him before. There, in the middle of the kitchen, with the sun shinning at her back, illuminating her hair and giving it gold and red highlights, she looked like something out of a legend. The smile warmed him even more than the sun shinning on his face, and he felt suddenly shy about the whole affair. He should be nervous. Fraternizing with the land dwellers was high treason at best. Then again, thought the most rebellious side of Orm, he was king. She gestured towards the bottles.

“Well then, Orm Marius of Atlantis, you were thirsty, right? I’m assuming this is your first time in the ‘dry land’” She said, making a strange gesture with her hands and shrugging, something that Orm didn’t know what it meant at all “So, how about having a little taste test uh?” Orm nodded and she squeezed his forearm in return. Her strength was practically non-existent. Orm felt a pleasant tingling where she touched him, but nothing more. How weak the humans were. He could crush her with one hand behind his back. She coughed, her face red. Orm frowned again. Was she alright? 

“You have to let go of my arm if you want me to pour the drinks, mate” Orm flushed. First of all, for not realising he was still clinging to her arm, and second, for the casual way she called him mate, like they were in some kind of… affair. He felt himself blushing and cursed his pale complexion. She claimed to know about his world, right? How bold of her… He mentally chastised himself. It could be a cultural misunderstanding. She wouldn’t be so crass in her flirting, Would she?

“I don’t have much right now, we can get different flavours later, I mean, when you feel well enough to go shopping with me, if you want to go shopping with me of course” She poured him a glass full of an orange liquid. He took the offered drink and sniffed it. Everything was different out of the water. Sharper, more intense without the currents to mitigate the taste and smell.. Lured in by her encouraging smile and nod, he took a sip. It was… delicious. Acid, but sweet, it flooded his mouth and he could taste it even after he drained the glass. 

“That is orange juice. We generally take it for breakfast. The one I make is sweet, because of the oranges, but it can be kind of sour. Depending on what we like, we might add sugar, to make it sweeter” she explained. Then, Grace, his friend, offered him a second glass. This one contained a blood red liquid. He worried. It did look an awful lot like blood. Still, he took the glass. It didn’t smell like blood. It was pleasant. Pungent, and tangy. This time he didn’t need any encouragement. He took first one sip, tasting it, and then drained the whole glass in one go. It was even better than the orange juice.

“That one was made from different berries. Different types of fruits, all blend together”

“I liked it very much. Thank you, Grace” It cost him nothing to be kind, and, well, one must be kind to his friends. He felt like giggling. His father, king Orvax had always doubted Orm’s abilities to make friends on his own. He had drilled him in the best ways to keep his people happy, and win their favours, but he had always reminded Orm of his… weak points. But there he was. With a friend. That he had made all on his own. And without really having a full conversation. 

Maybe he should talk more to her. 

If Vulko ever asked, he could tell him that he had been gathering information about the surface world, and he wouldn’t be lying. Not technically. 

“You are welcome Orm!” She handed him another glass “Here, this is peach juice, it’s my favourite!” Orm smiled and took his time savouring this one. It was thicker than the other ones, fragrant and overly sweet, but good. He could understand why she liked it, but he preferred the red one. The… berry juice. 

“Grace, before we continue tasting this… beverages, I would like to know, how did you learn about my kind? … my…. World”. She paled, her smiled faltered. Her eyes turned towards the sun, and the sound of the waves and the marine birds in the distance. 

“My… family told me. It’s… complicated Orm, and I was sworn to secrecy” He nodded. The part of his mind that was always on high alert for any possible plots against the crown filled the information in to be annalized later. She then smiled again. “Anything else you wanted to ask? Come on, Is this your first visit then? I will show you around, It will be fun! Ah, when your wounds are better, of course” She bit her lip, worried. Suddenly Orm’s eyes were glued to her very red, well proportioned lips. He hadn’t noticed before; they were quite pretty.

“I understand” he said, opting for diplomacy. He wasn’t telling her everything anyway, he had no right to ask for her secrets when he would get to keep his own. “This is my first time in the surface, and I must admit, I would like for the circumstances to be better” he said with a sad twisted smile and a wince, as he patted the bandages that were under his clothes. Something occurred to him “Have you found my trident, by any chance?”

“A trident?” She shook her head “I’m afraid not, you didn’t have anything but your clothes when I got you out of the water” He nodded. He would have to look for it later.


	4. Waking up II

“Grace, I do have another question. How did you survive the trenchers?” It had been bugging him all the meal. He had been nearly killed, his royal guards had been destroyed by those beasts, and this human girl had not only survived the attack but managed to drag him to safety. He knew humans did not swim either fast or gracefully. She shrugged and stood up to put the glasses and the bottles away.

“The lights, really. I was taking pictures of the invertebrates that produce bioluminescent in the intertidal zone during the night in the high tide. But I decided to take the lights with me because sometimes the sharks get a little bit close for comfort. A flash of the lights scares them away. I thought, no offense, that you were one of the locals out for a drunken night swim that had ended on the wrong side of a shark. And flashed them.” She giggled “Oh boy, those…. How did you call them? Trenchers? They sure look abyssal dwelling creatures to me. They fucked off as soon as they went face first into the light. Well, except for the one who tried to chew on me and ended up breaking a couple of the lightbulbs. But hey, we made it! Success! Yeeeey” 

“That, was, very clever of you, Grace” Orm was impressed and weirded out. First because this weird human girl had decided to go watch bioluminescent creatures in the dark, and second, because she had recognised the traits that marked the trenchers as deep-dwellers and used them to foil their attack. 

“How did you end up in that situation anyway? Are there more of those creatures on the coast? Should I tell people to keep out of the water?” She was moving around the kitchen, and, curious, Orm rose to see what she was doing. Specially when he heard the sound of water. He was handed a piece of cloth, and he saw her washing carefully a bunch of dirty dishes. She handed him a clean but wet dish, and he was at a loss. He stared at her, confused. “You dry it, with the cloth, and put it there” astonished, Orm obeyed. He smiled, suddenly proud of this menial task he was performing. It was refreshing. Prince Orm never did those things. King Orm would never even think of doing them. Here he was just… Orm. Helping his friend, doing whatever that was. He felt invigorated and free. And so, intoxicated by those long-forgotten sensations, he began to talk.

“The patrol ran into them by chance, really. The creatures of the Trench sometimes leave their territory if the population grows to much. They try to seek food far away from home. Don’t worry. Once the kingdoms learn of this menace, they would dispatch soldiers to deal with them. But I wouldn’t swim far from the coast for a while. Some of the creatures are bold, like the ones who hunt me down”

“They did quite a number on you. How are you feeling? I can drive to town and get you some painkillers, if you want” Orm took a moment to concentrate in his body. He was sore, but nothing more. He would have to check his wounds later, to assess the damage. That brought up another question.

“I’m feeling well. But, Grace, what happened to my suit?” He saw her tanned skin go bright red in less than a second. He arched an eyebrow, intrigued. A stray thought crossed his mind that moment, Had she been the one to take off his clothes? To change him into these garments he wore?. He didn’t know how he felt about being naked and exposed to this curious human he had just met. He felt a pang of curiosity. Would he look alien to her? Would she be alien to him?

“I had… help. A friend helped me change you, because, well. I have your suit, but it’s kind of ruined. Unless you know how to sew. Because, well, they have very sharp teeth” Orm was relieved to have avoided an awkward chat with her host, and, at the same time, he didn’t know how to feel about a stranger knowing about him. He wondered if it was the same person whose bed he had been sleeping in, and whose clothes he was wearing. He decided to bait her.

“He must be a good friend, to help you with a stranger. You must give him my most sincere thanks. Both, for the help and his clothes, since mine were ruined during the attack” She opened and closed her mouth several times, eyes wide. 

“I… eeeeeh…. How did you know it was a He?” she asked. Orm smiled, distracting himself by looking at one of the frames than hung on the nearby wall. It was a picture of a much younger Grace, wearing a dress, standing proudly by an old man wearing a black and white suit, two women, one old and one clearly younger, wearing more land-dweller dresses. Her family, he guessed. Maybe her parents and an older sister, though the woman looked to be significantly older. Ah. The grandparents, the mother and her child then. Part of the frame was covered, clearly hiding another person in the picture. Their hand was visible on the old man’s shoulder. Orm wondered who it was. He let her flounder around for a solid minute before turning around with a gentle smile.

“The clothes I am wearing are quite big to belong to you, so It could only be a big person. Based on land dweller physiology, I assumed it was a male” He expected her to tell him off for nosing into her life. She actually laughed.

“So that means no sexual dimorphism for atlanteans, I guess?” She asked, clearly curious. Orm shrugged.

“Of course, there is sexual dimorphism, but we are a tall race. You are the smallest person I have ever met that it wasn’t a child” Not that Orm had contact with many subadults or children out of public functions. Not even as a child himself. He wanted to know more about the male. Not only to assess if he was a threat, or if he was going to tell other land dwellers about him, but because that male was close to Grace. He felt fiercely protective about her, even if he had only known her for about three hours. And maybe he was a little bit possessive of the first person to be kind to him without second intentions in years. When he had grown into the Crown prince role, his childhood friends became more of a chorus of adulators than anything else. Always agreeing with him without question, always full of praise, always wanting something. Even Mera, who he had thought a kindred soul as she was burdened too by her royal title had become more distant with time. More formal, more calculating. She built a frozen façade around her that Orm could not penetrate. Vulko too. The man who had been his confident, protector, and second father figure after his mother’s sacrifice turned into his advisor and treated him with the same rigid etiquette, he had used with Orm’s father. 

He felt so lonely sometimes that he could scream for hours. 

Not that he could.

It would be unbecoming of a king.

He was never alone enough time to even try it without causing a scandal.

“Uh, so, Orm, what do you do for a living?” she asked, snapping him out of his dark thoughts. She had sat in a comfortable looking seat, clearly designed for several people. He looked at the empty space by her side and decided to take the liberty to sit down. Gravity made the move quite ungraceful, but the cushion was comfortable. There was a pillow at his back and the armrest was soft. 

It was his turn to stare. He could tell her he was a king. He couldn’t remember which country he was in. Some of their nations abhorred the concept of kings. Would she be disgusted by the notion? Even if she wasn’t, Orm would not risk the chance she would turn out like everyone else. He had placed great expectations on this kind land dweller that would face monsters to save a man who was doing something that, in her eyes, must have been impossible, and then she had bound his wounds, give him shelter and feed him, expecting nothing in exchange. He did what they had taught him since birth.

He opened his mouth and lied.

“I’m a soldier actually” Her eyes narrowed. He flinched. Was that the wrong answer?

“What were you doing do close to the shore?” Orm relaxed a little. This, he didn’t have to fake at all.

“I was trying to outswim the trenchers. Those creatures are fast and persistent I’m afraid” She seemed quite interested. He couldn’t blame her. He hated the surface with all his might, for polluting his home, killing his people, destroying their ecosystem and most importantly, taking his mother away, and he was still attracted by the mystery that was the dry land. A lifelong resolve to hate the surface had vanished with a meal and the feeling of sunlight in his skin. How could she not be curious, when his home was such a beautiful wide wonder?

“What are those things? The trenchers” she asked. Orm smiled and decided to answer. He didn’t realise how he puffed out, proud of being the undivided centre of her attention. 

“We call them trenchers, or, The Trench. They were one of the tribes of Atlantis, but long ago they… devolved. Became what you saw. They would eat anything they can catch. They normally stay in their territory, but sometimes a pod separates from the tribe if conditions are bad enough. With the fish resources dwindling, they have become a problem. I….” Orm caught himself in time before he said he ordered his soldiers to patrol the borders, he slipped a white lie in the middle of his tale. He was now a soldier, after all. Not that he wasn’t one before. He had practically been brought up in the barracks, when his father decided that would be the best way to purge his mother’s weakness from him. Orm cleared his throat.

“King Orvax sends us to patrol around the borders” She opened her mouth, but Orm, who had yet to invent a good backstory for his new identity, decided to change the subject. “Grace, I would like to see my suit, if you would be so kind”

“Oh, but of course! Here follow me. Arth…. My friend must have left it somewhere in his... in my guestroom, after changing your clothes” Orm frowned. She clearly was trying to hide the male living in her house. What a foolish thing to do. He was bound to arrive home at some point. 

He followed her to the room he had been sleeping in, and watched from the door how she moved around, frantically searching. In the end, she seemed to give up, growling and punching the bed. He was surprised by the sudden outburst. She marched straight past him and he followed her, but as soon as he turned around, she was already leaving the room, just to enter another door. Orm walked after her, only to find himself staring at the most incomprehensible mess he had ever seen. Piles of clothes on what he assumed was a chair, hidden by the garments. Shoes abandoned halfway to the closet, which was opened and quite messy. There was sand everywhere. The bed resembled more a nest that anything. The walls were covered with posters and pictures, but there were several gaps. A pile of papers laid on the unmade bed, half covered by the sheets. It was pure chaos. The only thing that seemed to escape the madness was the floor to ceiling glass doors that opened to a magnificent terrace overlooking the sea. Orm, who had been staring longingly at the water, flinched when a door he hadn’t even noticed opened with a bang. 

“Sorry” Grace said, flustered and blushing. She carried a bundle of purple cloth he recognized as hit wetsuit. “That Ass… I mean, I forgot where I put it” she nervously laughed as she handed it to him.

Orm inspected it carefully. She was right. It was badly torn along the chest and back. The upper part couldn’t be salvaged at all. There was only one piece missing in the leg where he had been injured. At least he would be spared the indignity of arriving home wearing surface clothing. It would be rather scandalous for him to arrive showing so much skin, but it could be pardoned under the given circumstances. Orm checked his armbands. They were intact, though they bore the signs of the trencher’s teeth. 

“Grace, I require a great amount of water, and some privacy” He said, and mentally winced. It had sounded more commanding that he would have liked. Orm waited for her to snap at him, like she had done before, but Grace only nodded. She guided him to a room full of strange contraptions. 

“This is the bathroom. Humans use it to wash or soak in warm water for fun and relaxation” she pointed at different things and explained how they worked. The shower, the bathtub, the sink, the toilet. Orm frowned. Toilet-paper, teeth brush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, bath bombs. His mind was swirling, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information. It was completely different from home. It was… human. He considered his options and, after ushering Grace out of the room and locking the door. He disentangled his communicator from the armband and prayed he had signal. It had been one of the main reasons the attack had been so brutal. They had been unable to ask for reinforcements. 

He submerged the communicator and waited. He felt like smiling when the device beeped into life and worked. He controlled his expression and wasted no time in making a very needed call. He had to think carefully what he would say. He had decided he would dare to do something inappropriate for once. 

“My king!” Vulko’s worried face rose from the water of the sink and stared at him. “There were reports of an attack close by your travelling route, and the we found the guards… We are so glad you are safe….” The old advisor gaped as he took in the room his king was standing in “But… my king, where are you?”

Orm mentally flinched. 

This was wrong.

This was madness.

This was high treason.

This was a chance to have something of his mother back. 

He had made a friend.

She was a mystery, with her warm smiled and her apparent knowledge about Atlantis. 

He justified it. He was hurt, there might be more trenchers around, it could be dangerous. He was only staying until his wounds were healed. Until it was safe. It was all so very logical. 

“I’m safe, though injured. Do not worry Vulko. I need you, though, to take care of things in my absence”  
“My king? I could send a battalion to secure your position. Healers. If you require medical attention sire, certainly…”

“No!” he exclaimed, maybe a tad to eagerly. “There is no need. Good and loyal subjects bound my wounds and gave me shelter. There is no need, Vulko, none at all. I will not repay their kindness by fleeing their home as if they weren’t worthy of their king’s presence in their abode. I shall return when my wounds are healed. I leave the kingdom in your capable hands, Vulko. I shall speak to you again in a couple of days, to see how matters are going.” 

Orm ended the call before the gaping advisor could present a better argument. He had called Grace a good and loyal subject. Maybe she was. She knew about them. Maybe…. Maybe her parents were exiles. But she hadn’t been able to breath in the water. Maybe she descended from exiles. Or maybe she was half Atlantean and never really explored her abilities. Maybe she didn’t inherit the gene that allowed them to breath underwater.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please, leave a comment, or a kudo, or even better, both!!!!
> 
> Love you all 
> 
> Luna.


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